Breathe Again
by Leahelisabeth
Summary: Episode tag to 11x17 Red Meat. Sam wakes up in the hospital and broments abound.
It was fuzzy, everything fuzzy, he realized; white noise in his ears, dancing shadows on his eyelids, cotton in his brain. There was something...something he was doing. Was he traveling? Had he been hunting? Some kind of marshmallow creature...with cotton candy ears. "Fuckin' peeps," he sighed.

"Sammy?" A voice boomed above him, cutting through some of that damn cotton.

He tried valiantly to bring his finger to his lips but his hand was fuzzy too. "Ssshhhh," he whispered. "You'll scare 'em."

"I'll scare the peeps?" The voice returned, softer this time, maybe fonder too, but that could be the fuzzy wuzzy...muzzy….buzzy... "The hell are you on about?"

Sam finally managed to prop his eyes open to see Dean hovering over him. He grinned wide and grabbed at his brother's face. "Didn't eat you!"

"No, it didn't eat me. You shot it, remember?" Dean grabbed his shaking hand and trapped it between both of his own.

Sam pouted. "Wasn't fast enough. You're still purple...purple...nurple." He pulled his hand away from Dean and tried to poke his brother's bruised cheek.

"What's with the rhyming, dude?" Dean caught Sam's hand again.

"Brain...s'fuzzy. Words are hard." Sam whined.

Dean pushed Sam's hair back from his forehead. "They've got you on the good drugs. You'll be fine but you're gonna be out of it for a while. Getting gut shot is no walk in the park."

"Thirsty," Sam whispered.

Dean picked up a cup of ice chips from the bedside table and spooned them into Sam's mouth. Sam moaned in pleasure as the cold water trickled down his throat and woke him up a little more.

Suddenly everything snapped into place and he remembered what happened. He grabbed Dean's arm and tried to pull himself into a sitting position. "Dude, Corbin! He's a…"

"Werewolf. I know. You shot him already. And lie back. You'll pull your stitches." Dean flattened his hand in the centre of Sam's chest and firmly pushed him back.

Sam thought about struggling but the dull ache that pushed through even the haze of strong painkillers suggested that he might want to take it easy. He settled back into the pillows and closed his eyes for a second.

"Right. That's how I got here."

Sam opened his eyes to see his brother's stricken face. "Dean, what?..."

"I left you in the woods. I thought you were dead and you almost died because I left you there."

Sam could see the exhaustion on Dean's face pulling his emotions to the surface. It woke him up the rest of the way. "Dude, spare me...the single man tear. Corbin's fault...cause he knew you wouldn't leave me...f'I was still breathing." Sam reached up and clumsily swatted Dean's shoulder.

"Damn right, I wouldn't. But I shoulda made sure. Coulda done the knife in front of the mouth trick. You know, mist on the blade because you're still breathing," Dean said softly.

"Hey, what's done is done. We made it out. I saved your ass," after a short burst of energy, Sam could feel himself fading again.

"Right," Dean grinned. "My little brother, the real MVP, ganking a werewolf by himself after spending the night bleeding in the woods."

"Ganked three," Sam yawned.

"What?" Dean's hand gripped Sam's shoulder.

"Bar lady...And her giant bodyguard...came to cabin...killed 'em...stole their truck. Wasn't about to walk to car." Sam mumbled sleepily.

"Damn," Dean whistled. "Remind me to stay on your good side."

"Yeah," Sam sighed. "Sshhh...sleeping." And he dropped off into the warm darkness once more.

oooOOOooo

Finally Dean felt that he could breathe again. From the moment he had seen that werewolf pull the trigger, there had been a tight band around his chest, preventing him from pulling in a full breath. It had cracked for a moment when he heard Sam's voice on the phone, and again when he saw his brother, gun in hand, saving his life like the big damn hero he was. But then Sam had gone down, collapsing to the floor, too much red on his shirt, dripping down his jeans, staining those strong but shaking hands. And medical professionals had descended like vultures, cutting clothes, slapping more gauze on a wound that had been draining his brother for hours. Some of them pulled at Dean, trying to get him up on a gurney, poking and prodding at his ribs, shining bright lights in his eyes, but he pushed them away, eyes glued to a brother that he might still have failed to save.

But this was relief. Sam lay, stitched and bandaged, colour slowly leaching back into his pale face, waking briefly to rant about Easter marshmallow candy like the bottom hadn't dropped out of Dean's world a mere 24 hours before.

And so Dean breathed, as deeply as his broken ribs would allow. He pulled his chair closer to the bed, sock feet propped up so he could feel the warmth of Sam's thigh beneath the soles, and he slept.

oooOOOooo

A bearded figure stopped in the hallway and looked in on them a few hours later. They both still slept, but neither restfully. Lines of pain scored Dean's face as his hunched position put pressure on his damaged ribs. Spots of colour bloomed in Sam's cheeks as a fever slowly started to rise. Dean's feet twitched as he sensed the rising temperature.

"I'm sorry, Sam," the man whispered. "I do hate to see you hurting like this. I wish it had not been necessary." He smoothed his hand over Sam's forehead, brushing his hair back from his face and, at the same time, smiting the virulent infection that was beginning to take hold in the fresh wound. He smiled as Sam slid deeper into a healing sleep.

He went to Dean next, not healing the ribs but lessening the pain so Dean could breathe deeply and ward off the pneumonia that threatened. Soon, both brothers were quiet and still.

At the last, he bent by Sam's head again. "You need to keep looking. There is a weapon that can defeat Amara and you do have the strength to wield it. But it will not be easy. It will reject you at first. You must bind it to you, forge it as one with your blood and soul," he whispered in Sam's ear. "The bullet is the key. Do you understand? The bullet is the key."

"Bullet...key…" Sam sighed and pushed his thigh more solidly against Dean's feet.

And the man stood straight. "I only wish I could do more," he sighed. He stood by the door for a moment, looking at his two champions, his chosen warriors. Then Chuck turned out the light and left them behind.


End file.
